Tag Archives: happiness

The bluebirds are back!

Daddy and Mama Bluebird survey their new domain.

The other day, my son Matthew woke up not feeling well, and complained that his throat was hoarse and swollen.  As I glanced at his nearby iPad, I wondered briefly if he was just overtired, and felt the tug of guilt.  Was he not getting enough rest because I was letting him use his electronics too much? Was he up late on his iPad?  Did he just not feel like going to school today?

But sometimes I need to just believe him. So, I did,  And, in fact, when he woke up later, I could tell he was genuinely quite sick. However, by mid-afternoon, he was feeling better, and happened to be standing in my office with me when we noticed the bluebirds flying around the nest box.

“Mom!’ he said.  “We have to set up the camera in the nest box!”  Forgetting he was not well, he wanted to go out immediately and hook up the wires.  I know from experience that if my kids want to do something with me, especially in the garden, I better hop to it pronto! So I said, “Yes.”

Blue back, red breast, on the alert.

We looked around for the power cord after setting everything up, but it could not be found.  Impatient to know what to do, Matthew called the bird place himself, and found out that I could pick up a power cord the next day. “Mom, you gotta make sure you go tomorrow!” he stressed.  “It’s free, too!” he assured me.

But the next day he was still sick, so he asked if we could go together to get the cord.  He took the lead, going into the store first and talking to the guy.  By the time I followed, he had already gotten what we needed. “He’s a very mature young man,” said the store owner, smiling at me.

Of course, we fixed up the power cord at home, fussed with the focus, and finally, voila!  There was the mama bluebird!  She had already started building, and we could watch as she brought bits and pieces of pine straw, leaves, grass and moss inside the box to fill the nest, using her body to press and “schootch” them into place.

The mama scooches down into the nest with her belly, making a snug hollow for the eggs.

I’ve been sitting out on the front bench most mornings since, feeding the bluebirds and watching them go in and out of the nest box.  I’ve taken photos and had little conversations with them, to make sure they are comfortable with me sitting out there.  The show has been terrific.  The other day, the male bird “saluted” me!  And I’ve had fun posting photos on instagram.

Salute!

As we’ve watched on the monitor for these past few days, the nest has gotten much thicker and much softer. No light shines through the bottom anymore, and the surface looks soft and fine, not just pine straw as it was before.

And last night, on the Spring Equinox, I saw something else.  “Quick,” I called out to Matthew and Camille. “Come see!” They both came running. I’d seen something new in the nest box: two sky-blue eggs.

Sky blue.

So. Spring has sprung.  The potential of the world is captured in two eggs, a snug nest, and a full heart.  Happiness is available to us, despite the sadness in the world.  Here.  In the garden.

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Feng Shui

My February intentions collage, for The Happiness Project.

So. For my February “Happiness Project” work, I thought I would spend some time de-cluttering. In her book, The Happiness Project, Gretchen talks about various forms of clutter that drain your energy, like household clutter, closet clutter, “freebee” clutter (hand-me-downs) and “nostalgia” clutter (relics of the past that you’ve been holding on to.) Of course, it’s just like weeding a garden; a necessary step so that healthy plants can thrive. And I do want to thrive.

The nostalgia clutter in my house right now is thick.  My house is full of reminders of a life, an era, a person that is gone.  Oh, I’ve moved some things out and other things around, but there is so much left over. So many reminders of the past.

My sister came to stay with the kids last fall for a week, and she said she felt like there was a lot of negative energy in the house. Maybe it’s because she sat in the red chair in the living room and stared at the photos on the piano (also my altar), which still include a photo of The Four Of Us from another era, back when I was more aware of “Looking Good” than “Feeling Good.” Sigh. (I noticed when I came back that she had moved the photos around, so that particular picture would not keep staring at her.)

I mentioned this problem to a friend of mine, and she suggested that I call in a Feng Shui expert.  Someone who could help me assess my situation and shift around that negative household energy. That intrigued me. So, I found an expert who said she not only could do some household blessings but also make recommendations for how to improve the energy “flow” in our house. Good.  A bit hurriedly, I hired her. Let’s do this thing.

When she came, we sat and talked, and then we did the blessings, mixing rice and liquor and Cinnabar powder in a bowl and tossing it in nine special areas of the property.  We chanted the chants, we reviewed the bagua she drew, we walked through the house and she made recommendations to keep this and throw away that. She looked at me searchingly, and said, “You know, you don’t have to keep something, just because somebody gave it to you.”

The effect was not quite what I expected.

After she was gone, I looked at my house with my new “Feng Shui eyes,” and I was sad.  Overwhelmed.  I thought about how each piece of furniture in my house tells a story, either because it came from my grandmother, my aunt, my mother, my mother-in-law, or from the early days of setting up our married household.

Which of these things is not authentically me? Which is just baggage, cluttering up my life and draining my energy?  Which is somebody else’s story, masquerading as mine? Which is an old story, that I don’t want to read anymore because it’s too sad?

For my collage, I had found a Georgia O’Keefe quote that said, “I decided to start anew, to strip away what I had been taught.” I knew I needed to look, for myself, at what I had been “taught,” and decide what to keep and what to let go of.

As I lay on the gold couch in the living room one Sunday afternoon (from my parents’ living room 50 years ago, and also the preferred spot for my occasional Sunday naps), Camille came in to lie down with me, just for a few moments, as only a teen-ager who has once been a little girl will sometimes do.  She let me wrap my arm around her as she surveyed the house from that vantage point.

At my daughter’s birthday party this month. She is almost an adult!

“Do you think we’ll always remember this?” she said. “The way the pictures look on the piano?  The way the books on that shelf look over the TV?  The art on the walls?” I thought I heard a message: “These things are important to me, Mom.  I find comfort in these everyday household objects.  They tell me I am Home.”

I learned in a support group that I can “Keep what I like, and leave the rest.” I don’t have to take anything wholesale. A wise friend further clarified: “Here’s the test. When you look at an object in your home, does it bring you comfort, or pain? What is comfortable to you?  What story does each object tell in the present?”  If, when I look at an object, it brings a smile to my face, no matter what its past history is, no matter whose it was, then I can keep it. And if it brings me pain, I can let it go.

Or, as that infamous photo on my piano reminds me, “Does it merely LOOK good, or does it FEEL good?” If it just looks good, but feels bad…I need to let it go.

What a concept!  What a test for life!  What empowering freedom! Am I comfortable with this thing, whatever it is…a household object, a personal situation, a business decision? I must learn to notice how it makes me feel. And I need to STOP doing — or holding on to — what DOESN’T feel comfortable to me. Even if it might displease someone else. And guess what else? I don’t have to decide all  these things at once.  It’s a discovery process. And it’s going to take some time to sort it all out. I can do that.

I know.  This might not seem too revolutionary to some people.  (Duh!  Of course, Jennifer!) But for me, this is a challenge.  Frankly, I have a hard time even thinning radishes!  Can you believe, I feel sorry for the little radishes that won’t grow? Sigh.

I guess, in retrospect, it’s not so surprising that in high school I was named, “Most Sentimental.” Back then I couldn’t imagine what they were talking about. But perhaps they were right, after all. And maybe that’s something, of myself, that I will hold on to.

Here. In the garden.

Beautiful things are blooming in the garden, including this lime tree.

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The Happiness Project

This year, I spent New Year’s Eve in Sedona. It was a reunion with friends I met last year on New Year’s Eve, when we were all licking our wounds from various traumatic events in our lives.

On the way to our reunion, in the airport, I noticed that book (again), called The Happiness Project, by Gretchen Rubin. This time I picked it up and made note. Even took a picture! But I did not buy it. Just left it on the shelf, thoughtfully.

The next morning, we took a “wall yoga” class (Have you tried it? Really cool. You hang from a strap on the wall! We always try to do something new and different when we get together.) The instructor announced that “letting go” was the theme of the class. That seemed appropriate! Then, at the end, he read an affirmation that really caught my attention: “I affirm my ability to have a happy life.”

Can I do that? Can I have a happy life? Can I let go of the sorrows of my past, honor them, and then step lightly into a new life filled with happiness and joy?

We had a sparkling New Year’s Eve black-tie dinner party that night with a lovely group of Danish friends. I drank champagne, ate tasty raw oysters and fragrant cod, did some ballroom dancing, and deliciously, took a nap by the fireplace until the ball started to drop!

And the next morning, as the brilliant sun rose over the beautiful Sedona rock formations, I woke up happy.

So. I’ve decided to make 2012 my own personal Happiness Project. I decided to do things every day this year that will make me happy. For example, I made an artsy collage of my intentions for the month of January. I played ping pong with my son even though it was bedtime. I bought three new books and started reading them: The Road Less Traveled, The Happiness Project, and A Life of One’s Own. And I spent a few hours last Saturday in the garden, trimming old branches and cleaning up debris.

I even created a Meetup.com group for people in Jacksonville called “the Happiness Project — Jacksonville.” It’s live! Invitations will go out to the general public in the next day or so!

http://www.meetup.com/Happiness-Project-Jacksonville-FL/

So. Not sure where this will lead. I’ve been journaling a lot, focusing on all that I am grateful for, but also acknowledging the difficulties in my life. And there are a few of them. However…this too shall pass. I don’t think it has to ruin my happiness. In fact, it may even be necessary for my happiness, to feel the pain and walk through it, and get to the other side.

I just read this lovely passage in Thich Nhat Hanh’s book, Your True Home:

The goodness of suffering is something real. Without suffering there cannot be happiness. Without mud there cannot be any lotus flowers. So if you know HOW to suffer, suffering is OK. And the moment you have that attitude, you don’t suffer much anymore. And out of suffering, a lotus flower of happiness can open.

Here. In the garden.

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